But till the morning sun you're mine all mine
by frdss-gstnn
Summary: She's so complex sometimes, but as he holds her fingers in his large palms, he could feel how thin and fragile they are. How fragile she is. one-shot. Andrew/Allison.


So, I was listening to Sam Tsui & Kurt Schneider cover of Taylor Swift's Safe and Sound and it was epic! Check it out, if you have time. Just another one-shot to fill my empty times with. Hope you enjoy. My first Breakfast Club fic, be nice alright? Love Andrew/Allison. ;)

* * *

**But till the morning sun you're mine all mine**  
by BigBenMitchell

* * *

It's a crazy world, she would always say. _That's why I'm crazy_.

He loves her voice. He could listen to it over and over again and _never_ get tired of it. Her voice would be high-pitched when she screams, and light as air when she whispers. The way her breaths tickle his cheek before she leans in further to whispers her words. She's so complex sometimes, but as he holds her fingers in his large palms, he could feel how thin and fragile they are. How fragile _she is_. He loves her laugh, sometimes it's so quiet, he needs to close his eyes and focus on it solely- sometimes it's way too loud, it'll make him laugh alongside with her too.

Sometimes, he would only hold her close to him, when he feels like he couldn't say anything. He loves hearing her talk, _her voice_. He loves the way she trails her cold fingers on his skin, haunting it ever so slightly. He loves her eyes, the way it lightens up and darkens down.

She caresses his cheek, her eyes are as if memorizing his face, every details of it. She leans down and kiss him tenderly with her soft lips to his jaw. He gasps, taking in sharp breaths. He holds her tighter on her hips and closes his eyes. She leans closer, brushing her lips to his cheek, until she reaches his ears. "Andrew," her voice would begin. He continues to hold her, not wanting to let go of her just yet.

"You're crying," she graces her thumb against his cheek, wiping his single tear away.

He breaks down and bites his lips. _Dad, dad, dad_.

She holds him with both her hands, clasping his jaw. With a small smile and softer eyes, she tells him, "Shh. I'm here, right? I'll never let you go."

_Allison_.

* * *

He loves her hair, messy or not.

It's dark brown and short. It's simple. When she's leaning against him, her back on his chest, he would always bury his nose in her hair, kissing it afterward. His fingers would find hers, intertwines it together. It didn't take long for him to slap himself and realize he _needs Allison in his life_. The week after the fateful Saturday, it was hard. He had come to school, with the intention on trying to avoid Saturday-issue at all cost, but how can he even do that when she didn't come for the next few days? Along those days of her absence, he had went insane. He'd punch scumbag Rodriguez right at his nose for making some stupid useless jokes, he went all-maniac over a pizza order and he had a make-out session with Lyra Greene only to break it apart because _it felt so damn wrong_.

On a gloomy Thursday, after everything seemed like a faint memory and he felt so lifeless, he saw her standing among the crowds, just staring at him. She's in her dark clothing, her hair was cleaner and her face was as pale as usual, and his heart never felt so calmed before. She was what he was waiting for. He had ran to her and took her to the janitor's closet, kissing her endlessly for the next 10 minutes. Ending it with a, "Don't ever do that again," his voice was husky and rough, out of breath.

She, trying her best to hide her grin, looked up, "What?"

He ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feel of it. "I don't want to be alone. Not without you."

_Don't ever leave me alone_.

* * *

The never have an official date whatsoever. But she had once took him to a roof, to watch the sun rise.

She leaned her head against his broad shoulder, watching as the sun slowly makes its appearance. The birds flew in the air, singing and waking everyone up. The wind blew peacefully around them and he felt _so peaceful_. No coaches to yell at him, no teachers to threat him with his grades, no dad to order him _to get your crap together or for fuck's sake, _I_ will do something about it_. Just him and her. And sun rise.

"Close your eyes, Andrew," she told him, with a voice she only uses with him.

He did, a smile playing on his lips. "Why?"

A kiss. "For luck."

He opened his eyes, smiling widely at her. She's wearing the same expression. "You know, today's game. I know you can do it."

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles, grabbing her closer and landed another kiss on her lips.

She let out a laugh and nodded her head, "Yeah. Make your coach proud, your teammates proud, your school proud, your _dad_ proud...," he rolled his eyes at the mention of his father, but didn't look away from her. She's still smiling, and there is nothing more that is beautiful than her. "_Me_ proud," she said slowly.

He laughs, before crashing their lips together again. "Always," he promised.

"I know."

* * *

He loves her touches.

It's so gentle, it's like her whispers. He would barely notice it, yet it's ghosting him all over the place. Sometimes he'd have nightmares of her touches, lingering on his skin. _Crap_, he would tell himself at nights. No one's touches could ever come close to hers. Not Lyra Greene, or Amanda Cliff (ex-girlfriend) or even the hottest girl in his grade, Riley Anderson (he would know, she flirted with him once). She's much more different, much more sincere, much more carefree. She won't touch him because she wants him- she touches him because it feels right. Their skins melded together, dancing around each other. It sends some sort of electrifying feeling all over his body, it makes him shudder in silence.

She softly pressed the damp, cold, towel against his bruised face. He winched. "So, your dad did this because you didn't get into the University he wanted you to go?"

"Yeah," he nods, biting his tongue not to curse aloud. He averted his eyes at her in a short moment, only watching as her eyes are focusing on the bruise. "But I got into the other one, though. It's not that good to compare with the first one, but it's still great..."

"I'm glad," her words aren't exciting, or even enthusiastic. It's just... sad.

He glanced over to her, worried smearing his expression. "Hey, what's wrong?" His words are slow, his hands on her wrist that was treating his injured face. She's so skinny under under his palm- he wonders if she would break if he's too rough. But she seemed tough, all at the same so _dangerous to be holding_.

She stopped what she's doing, meeting his gaze. "Y-you're going away, Andrew."

It breaks him inside to see her this way.

He cupped her face with his hands and brought her closer to him. Slowly, he leaned down to press their lips together. Something churned in his stomach, just like it would whenever it's _AllisonAllisonAllison_. She's so close to him, yet she felt so far away right on the moment. He miss her. He miss her eyes, her touches, her smiles, her laughter, her insanity, her voice, her hands, her fingers... "I love you, Allison."

She kissed him hard on his lips. "I love you too, Andrew."

* * *

Mark is his new college roommate, and he's a very lazy and sarcastic person but he knows when to interrupt and when to shut up if he needs to.

"Who's that?" he pointed out one day, his chin gesturing at the picture of a smiling woman with messy short dark-brown hair and a large smile on her lips, looking at the camera, with him kissing her on the cheek. He looked at it for a while, his mind traveling back to the memory. The moment when her body was just beyond his reach, where he could wrap his arms around with and pull her closer, smelling her in. She smelled like old cigars and grass, but that's okay. He probably smelled like dirty socks and sweats.

"S' my girlfriend," he muttered slowly, crunching the chip in his mouth. He slumped against the couch, changing the channel on the small television Mark had installed.

Mark raised an eyebrow. He ignored it. Surprisingly, Mark shrugged his shoulder and continue on with whatever he's doing, "Oh. She looks nice."

"She's better than nice," he argued, still crunching on more chips.

Suddenly, a pillow landed on the back of his head, making him turned his head in a matter of a second towards Mark, who merely rolled his eyes. He snorted under his breath, strumming his old guitar, "You're whipped, dude."

He didn't say anything, mostly because Mark's probably right.

* * *

He didn't knew college life would be so busy.

He looked over to a calendar one day.

_Five months_. That's how long he hadn't called her. Somehow, the guilt stretched a little way over five months.

* * *

When he sees her, the only thing he could think of doing is be close to her.

He let his head drops on her shoulder and they just stay that way for a while. His hands are around her, keeping her from running away even though he knows Allison wouldn't do that, not when the both of them are in this _way too deep_. The regrets, the guilt, the silent pain and the invisible scars throbbing within him, but he couldn't let himself to say it. _Sorry Allison_, his lips are seal shut. _Dammit, I'm sorry_!

Slowly, her touches begin to ghost over his skins, and he has to strained himself from grabbing her closer. "When you're around, Andrew-" she slowly admits, her voice is low for him to hear. _Only_ him. "-I feel safe and secure."

He couldn't take it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mutters into her shoulder.

She laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand. "It's okay," she whispers. "It happens."

How could she say that? Like it was nothing? She's a puzzle, a complicated one. But he's addicted on solving her. No, he _loves_ her. "I'm _so_ sorry, Allison."

"_Andrew_," her tongue presses on his name. He loves the way she calls his name. "You make me feel safe and secure."

In another word, _I love you so much_.

He looks up, daring himself to finally look at her. She's so innocent for someone who drank a tons of Vodka. He puts his arms around her now and she slowly rests her head on the crook of his neck, finding it fits perfectly. It always does. Her hair is messy, and he grins lazily because _she just looks way beautiful_. With a deep breath, he put his chin on top of her head, "And _you_ make me feel safe and secure too."

In another word, _I love you so much too_.

* * *

"So, where's your girlfriend now?" Mark asks casually.

He flips on the next page of his book, "She, uh, got into Hughes."

Mark stops for a while, "Hey, isn't Hughes just a couple of hours from here?"

"Yeah," he answered shortly.

"You could easily meet her, then!" The lazy roommate exclaims, looking frantic although Andrew doesn't know why.

He chuckles and snorts, "Where do you think I go during the weekends?"

* * *

-**Fin**.


End file.
